


Aegri Somnia

by LegendaryArmor



Category: Fallout - Fandom, Fallout: New Vegas
Genre: M/M, Post-Game(s)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-04-12
Updated: 2013-04-12
Packaged: 2017-12-08 06:10:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,734
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/757992
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LegendaryArmor/pseuds/LegendaryArmor
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The Courier has taken the Dam and led the Mojave to independence, and Arcade is in Freeside tending to the wounded when an unexpected patient comes into his care. Nolan McNamara would have been his worst nightmare many years ago, but in this new world, he may be the person that can help the wayward doctor finally find his place.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Aegri Somnia

**Author's Note:**

> For the 2013 Fallout Big Bang.
> 
> Illustration is by spacefragments.tumblr.com!

It was the news that was the first to come in, passing the lips of tired runners and rusty robots.

The Legion had been pushed back, and one lone Courier by the name of Isaac finally put the NCR in its place with an army of Securitrons at his call.

And then, the wounded came.

The patients came dozens at a time, eventually becoming what seemed like an endless line of injured soldiers. To Arcade, the days immediately following the war were a hurricane of blood and bandages, and none of the Followers - himself included - could stop for a moment of rest lest someone else show up dying on the doorstep of the Old Mormon Fort.

He had just laid down in his rickety old bed for a brief respite of sleep when Julie opened the flap of the tent; the light of afternoon swept over his eyes, blinding him for a moment, and his expression was less than enthused.

“I’m sorry to bother you, but a new group of patients just came in. We could use your help.” She somehow sounded apologetic and serene at the same time; Arcade found it difficult to stay grumpy with her for too long.

He sighed as he rolled out of bed and grabbed his bag of supplies, adjusting the collar on his coat for a moment. “What’s the gist of it this time? Anyone get into a good ol’ barfight for a change?”

“Chainsaw and spear wounds, mostly. You should also know, though, they’re a little different from most of the others that have come through so far.”

“Why’s that?” Maybe some high rollers, or tribe members? It didn’t really matter to him, but he was pretty curious. They’d had all kinds coming in recently.

“Well, they’re from the Brotherhood of Steel,” she said, sounding perplexed.

His stomach turned worse than it had in days.

“What the hell is the Brotherhood doing here?” He’d gone from relatively sleepy to on edge in the span of a few short seconds, and it was almost visible for a moment before he got himself calmed down. “Their bunker is closer to the Dam than Freeside, and they’ve got to have their own doctors.”

“Not closer for the wounded, they said. The roads to Freeside were easier to travel, and they felt they had safety in numbers, joining up with some of the Securitrons.” She moved as if to leave, and continued, “In any case, be ready. We have a lot to do.”

Arcade did his best to steady his nerves as he walked into the near-blinding daylight. He was no coward, but there weren’t many people that could make him more uneasy than members of the Brotherhood. His thoughts took a million paths through his mind, resting on one simple sentence - _At least they’re not mind readers._

And there they were, a small squad of paladins inside the wooden door, battered but not quite broken. Was that a drop of blood on the ground beside the foot of their leader? _God, but they look like hell-_

“Elder McNamara, this is Arcade Gannon,” Julie spoke to one of the paladins, gesturing back towards the blond.

 _The real question is, how many times am I going to be surprised today?_ “I’m sorry, did you say Elder McNamara?”

The leader reached for their helmet, and removed it - albeit a bit gingerly - and sure enough, there was the trademark snowy hair against caramel skin, and a tired, barely-there smile. “It’s nice to see you again, though I wish the circumstances were a bit less strained.”

“Spoken like a man that hasn’t had a chainsaw at his arm,” Arcade mumbled as he peered at the leader. There was a large, jagged gash in a seam of the armor he was wearing, near his right elbow; red coated almost his entire gauntlet, and he could see a hasty, blood soaked bandage peeking through torn fabric and broken metal. The other paladins didn’t look to be in the best of condition, either.

“This way, please.” Julie’s voice was still the calm amidst uncertainty as Arcade found himself walking towards an empty tent with a squad of Brotherhood soldiers at his back.

* * *

 

“Arcade will be the one to treat you, Elder.” The doctor in question almost spat out his water as Julie continued. “Your injuries are some of the worst, and will require more work and attention than the rest of your group, something Arcade will be well suited for.” _A very diplomatic way of telling him I hate people, thank you._ “I’ll go find someone to treat the rest of you momentarily.” She gave Arcade a signature Look before she went back outside, and he rubbed his temples in exasperation.

“All right, my pack of patients is off this way. Sorry to make you walk more,” he said in apology, gesturing for McNamara to follow him. “It’s not far, though.”

Nolan nodded and followed the doctor at a slow, steady pace, though he had a rather pronounced limp. When they reached the tent in question, Arcade opened the flap, and the Elder followed him wordlessly.

There were five others cramped into the space already; three women, two men. Most looked young; they were bandaged and dusty, and all of them were asleep, but they seemed relatively well considering the conditions. Arcade led Nolan to the last available bed, awkwardness seeping into his expression.

“Can you even take that off by yourself?”

“Perhaps with great effort, though I’d rather not try.”  The answer didn’t surprise the doctor; he wasn’t completely unfamiliar with power armor, after all. He moved closer to the Elder, reaching for latches and straps and doing his best not to disturb his wounds, which were undoubtedly already quite aggravated. A moment of relative quiet passed, the background noise of the Fort filling the silence when the Elder spoke again - “Thank you, Doctor.”

“It’s nothing.” It clearly was, though, because he ended up smiling despite himself. Once all of Nolan’s armor was removed, he helped the slightly shorter man to lie back on the mattress, and began rummaging through his bag. “So, what’s the damage report? Besides the chainsaw versus your arm, I mean.”

“I think I may have broken my right foot. My other injuries are rather minor; just scrapes and bruises.”

“I’ll take a look at those after we get the open wound situation cleared up.” He took McNamara’s arm gently into his hands, getting to work on peeling the dirty bandages away from the wound underneath. It didn’t take long, but he was quiet for a moment as he analyzed the damage before he glanced back up at the Elder. Nolan’s eyes were tired, but kind. “Is it bad?”

“Well, someone hacked at you with a chainsaw. It could be worse.” Arcade adjusted his glasses as he reached for a tiny bottle. “You’ll be fine,” he said, almost apologetically. Maybe being a sarcastic ass to the leader of the Brotherhood of Steel wouldn't be the smartest move, especially considering his own colorful background.

“That’s more than the Legion can say, I suppose,” the Elder replied with a small smile. “Thank you again, Doctor Gannon.”

“It’s nothing,” Arcade mumbled, gently dabbing at the wound with disinfectant. As Nolan grimaced, he continued, “Please, call me Arcade. Formality doesn't suit me too well, and you’re going to be seeing a lot of me in the next few weeks.”

Nolan’s smile didn’t vanish, despite the pain. “I must say, I think I like the sound of that.”

Arcade looked up at his patient, seemingly confused. “You’re too kind,” he mumbled awkwardly, going back to cleaning his arm.

“I disagree,” he replied easily. “Perhaps it’s you that’s too kind. A doctor tending to the victims of a war for no personal gain - it doesn’t get much more selfless than that. And I still haven’t forgotten all that you and your friends did for my chapter a few short months ago.”

Arcade shifted slightly. McNamara was not flirting with him. Not only was he not flirting with him, he was the Elder of the local Brotherhood of Steel chapter. Also, he was _definitely not_ flirting with him. “Sorry, I’m not used to compliments.”

“Oh, my apologies. I didn’t intend to make you uncomfortable.” His smile was still there, but his eyes were closed as Arcade continued tending to him; he put ointment over the now-clean, jagged cut on his arm before taking out a needle and thread.

“Actually, I should be the one apologizing. This isn’t going to feel too good. Not as bad as a bunch of jerks in leather skirts hacking at you with rusty weapons, though.”

“I’d guessed as much.” McNamara winced as the needle pierced his skin, but his eyes remained closed. “Tell me, Arcade. I’ve seen you before with Isaac and Veronica, but I know so little of you. How far have your travels as a doctor taken you?”

“All sorts of places. Mostly Isaac’s fault, though. Visited a Vault here and there, stopped a high-profile assassination... you know, everyday stuff.”

“Is that so? I’d like to hear more, honestly.”

Arcade never pictured himself telling the head of the Brotherhood chapter stories about his travels with the famous Courier while he sewed his arm shut, but there he was. And really, he had to admit, he didn’t mind much at all.

Maybe he even kind of liked it.

* * *

 

Some time later, Arcade made his way back to his own tiny, cramped tent, barely taking the time to remove his shoes before collapsing into bed. Sleep overtook him almost immediately; he’d been working nearly nonstop for the past week, and rest had been a sadly elusive beast. Even with all hands on deck, it had been exhausting, to say the least.

He woke after several hours, slightly disoriented. Peeking outside, he saw it was nearing dawn; he’d slept for ages, but he certainly felt a lot better. Almost immediately, though, Julie caught sight of him a few feet away and came jogging over.

“Arcade. We’ve just gotten a couple more patients - Freeside natives, this time. I’m putting one under your care to keep the workload from getting too heavy on the others.”

“My tent is pretty much at full capacity,” he said with a frown. “Do we have any bedrolls? I don’t want to make them sleep on the ground.”

“I have a better idea. Elder McNamara is a distinguished person with ties to you, and we’d like to try to keep civilians separate from soldiers and the like if possible. Let’s move him in with you.”

Arcade rubbed at his eyes. He wasn’t nearly awake or drunk enough for this. “You want the leader of the Brotherhood of Steel to stay in my personal tent. Really.”

“You can keep a better eye on him that way, too,” she said, quite serious as usual. “It’s something the others have started doing, as well. We can trust that they won’t take anything or cause too many problems, and it saves us space.”

“All right, all right. I’ll try not to have too many wild parties while our esteemed visitor gets his beauty rest.” Not that he was going to argue with her, anyway. He couldn’t ever bring himself to say no to Julie, even if it was the Brotherhood that was involved in this little fiasco. “Let’s do it, then.”

Elder McNamara was awake when they arrived not much later, smiling as he saw them. “Hello. Is everything well?”

Arcade tried and failed not to fidget as Julie explained the situation, thumbing at a small tear on the handle of his supply bag. McNamara looked unphased, however, and moved to stand as he nodded in agreement to everything she’d said.

“Careful, now.” Arcade went to his side and supported him under his good arm; his foot was in a large, padded splint, but it still wouldn’t do to put more pressure on it than absolutely necessary. “It’s not far.”

It took only a few minutes to go back to Arcade’s tent and get Nolan settled into the spare bed. Julie put the sack of McNamara’s armor she’d been carrying down in a corner and left; almost immediately, Arcade began rifling through his bag and took out the fresh bandages he’d been planning on using for the Elder later on. “Might as well change those now,” he said. “How are you feeling?”

“Certainly better than I did before I came here,” McNamara replied. “Would you prefer if I removed my shirt? I’m afraid it’s rather dirty.”

“Oh, yeah. I have some spares, if you want,” he said absently. He picked out some more ointment and sterilized his hands - when he turned around, he bit his lip involuntarily. The Elder had his worn shirt half-off, taking an extra moment to be careful of his bad arm. And damn it all, he was even easier on the eyes than Arcade initially appreciated those months before. Not that he’d been appreciating him. Oh, God, he totally had been. _Wrong guy to drool over. The absolute worst, actually,_ he thought. “I can pull some hot water for you, if you’d like to clean up a bit before you put a new one on.”

“That would be excellent, thank you.” Nolan extended his arm as the blond walked over, pulling up a chair at the bedside and carefully unwrapping the dressing on his arm. It was silent for a moment; Nolan simply watched as Arcade worked, initially taking note of his movements and what he was doing, but then studying his face while the doctor dutifully pretended not to notice.

“You’ve been through a lot, haven’t you?” he asked quietly.

Arcade’s practiced movements faltered, just for a moment, as he looked up and met the other man’s eyes. “Why do you say that?” he replied carefully, focusing again on rebandaging the Elder’s arm.

“I see myself in you, I suppose.” Arcade could still feel his eyes on him, and tried not to think about it too hard. “In your face, your expression. It’s the look of someone who’s been through a lot of hardship.”

“Life’s been hard for everyone,” Arcade countered.

“Perhaps especially so for you.”

Arcade was silent again for a moment as he finished up with the bandage, wordlessly checking the splint on McNamara’s foot to make sure it was still secure. “It could be worse. I guess a lot of people can say that, though.” Shrugging, he continued, “It’s nothing, really.”

“I’m sorry if my questions are overly personal,” McNamara said softly. “It just seems strange, perhaps. I know you’ve heard tales of me from Veronica, but I know so little of you.”

“Not much has changed since you saw me at the bunker.”

“You were there for just three days,” the Elder replied. His smile was wider than it had been yesterday, his eyes a little less clouded with pain. “I learned you enjoy strawberry preserves on toast, and that you are a doctor of the Followers skilled with a plasma gun, but not much else. We are on uneven ground, you and I.”

Arcade felt his lips twitching into something resembling a smile, despite himself. “I’m really very boring. You’d get better stories out of a Freeside junkie.” He could already tell the line had even less effect on McNamara than it did on Isaac. The Elder shook his head, and Arcade continued, “I enjoy pre-War books about failed socioeconomic policies. Fascinating, right?” _Also, my father was an Enclave officer. No big deal._

“You’re very academic. What other talents do you have, beyond medicine and energy weaponry?”

God, but McNamara was relentless. Was he really that bored, or did Arcade have more charisma than he gave himself credit for? _Veronica will never let me hear the end of this, if she catches wind of it._ “I prefer science and research over actually putting the knowledge to use personally. I’m not good with people, if you couldn’t tell.”

“Not at all,” the Elder replied easily. “I think you’re a better man than you paint yourself, Arcade. You wouldn’t be here otherwise.”

He couldn’t help it; he smiled at that. “I could say the same to you, Elder.”

“Nolan,” the Brotherhood leader corrected. “We are on a first name basis, aren’t we?” Damn, but his smile was slow and gorgeous and- “You’re proving my point, however. That’s very kind. Thank you.”

Arcade was flattered, but also a little uneasy. He’d never actually spoken to the Elder too much directly about his past; most of it, he’d heard from Veronica when she was explaining the lockdown that used to have such a grip on the Brotherhood’s Mojave chapter. “Maybe you’re right. We’ve both tried to do what’s best.” He pretended to inspect the splint some more as he continued, averting his eyes from that intense, knowing gaze. “You’re all right in my book. Well, okay, more than that, you’re pretty great. For whatever that’s worth, anyway.”

“From someone so selfless as you, quite a bit.”

The doctor chuckled. “Not as selfless as you think. The sentiment is appreciated, though.”

“Certainly more than you seem to give yourself credit for.” When Arcade looked up, Nolan’s eyes were still on him, and his expression had relaxed. “I don’t mean to pester you, or be overly personal. Perhaps rescinding the lockdown and fighting at the Dam has changed me more than I anticipated.”

“I don’t mind,” Arcade replied, maybe a little too quickly. “I just don’t make a habit of talking about myself. Not much to tell, anyways.” _And I don’t want to impress the wrong people._

“I understand,” Nolan smiled, yawning just a little.

Arcade nodded as he stood up. “I’ll get you some water and a new shirt. I do have other patients to take care of, for a while. I’ve got books if you want to read them, though they’re probably not to your liking. Like I said, pre-War failed socioeconomic policies are my favorite.”

“They may be outside of my understanding. I can certainly make the attempt, though.”

Arcade shook his head, frowning, and walked over to a rickety filing cabinet. He opened one drawer, and several books peeked back out at him. After a moment, he picked a thick one from the bunch and handed it to the Elder. “An old fantasy story, from before the war. Basically about the little guys winning, even when everything seems screwed beyond repair. Magical rings and swords and whatnot.”

Nolan took it with a smile, and the doctor turned to leave with a small wave of his hand.

Perhaps staying at the Fort would be less dull than he anticipated.

* * *

 

Arcade isn’t quite sure what to make of the situation, really.

He’d gone about business as usual the past several days, checking on his patients multiple times a day and helping out as an extra hand where needed. He’d read or experimented with herbs and plants in his free time when he wasn’t sleeping, and it’s still peaceful, still relaxing - as much as it can be, given the Fort’s current strain, anyways. He’d seen more blood than he cared to, smelled things he’d rather not, but at the end of the day, his books and medicine were still there.

There’s just an extra element to it now, and it’s strange, but not necessarily awful. Rather far from it, in fact.

Nolan is perfectly pleasant. More than that, really; he’s intelligent and curious, with a sharp edge hiding underneath the calm, but he is also respectful of the boundaries Arcade finds himself hoping don’t seem too cold or avoidant. He’s certainly one of the least fussy patients on the doctor’s roster, something that Arcade has appreciated on more than one occasion.

And he’s _cute._

Arcade rolled his eyes at his thoughts as he slipped back into the tent. Nolan smiled up at him as he walked in, the thick, dusty book that Arcade had lent him open in his hands.

“A long day?”

“The usual, really. This time, Brian was nice enough to throw up on himself instead of my coat.”

“A shame. You looked quite dashing with a bit of color in your wardrobe,” Nolan laughed.

“This coming from the guy that spent a week parading around in a bunch of rusty metal.” He took a seat next to Nolan’s bed, who held out his arm almost immediately. As the blond began unwrapping the bandages, he glanced over to his patient with a smirk. “You’re getting a little cheeky, Elder. Maybe I’m a bad influence.”

“Nonsense,” he said with a smile, poorly feigning innocence. “I’m quite respectable, you know.”

Arcade scoffed as he finished cleaning the wound and applying more ointment. He began rebandaging, the moment steeped in comfortable silence. He tried not to think too hard about the blue eyes watching him so intently.

“There you go,” he said as he stood, stretching the aches from his muscles. “I’ll be right back with dinner. Might as well get it now before I get too comfortable, right?”

He returned not long after with a couple plates of hot brahmin steak and bottles of lukewarm water. The two ate together, as they had for the past three nights, talking and enjoying each other’s company. They had clicked with an ease that pleasantly surprised both of them.

As Arcade laid down in the darkness that night to rest, he turned all his interactions and thoughts over and over in his mind. They got along so well; his face felt strange from smiling so often around Nolan. But he couldn’t help being uneasy, with damn good reason. He clenched his teeth as his father and the Remnants flickered through his thoughts, disquieting him to the core.

The nightmares came to him in his sleep. They always did.

* * *

 

Several more days passed without any excitement, beyond a crazed junkie trying to stab Arcade with a needle. He shook his head for the millionth time that afternoon as he walked towards his tent, his thoughts turning back to Nolan.

He’d first met him a couple months back when he was traveling with Isaac and Veronica, and he’d appreciated how easy on the eyes the Elder was then - but now he was getting to know him, and it was honestly pretty frustrating.

It had been a _while_ , is all; the Fort and Freeside weren’t the best places to find a good date, especially with the state of the world like it had been, all chaos and tension and borderline war. And as much as he might’ve liked entertaining somewhat lascivious thoughts about the other man, he had to be honest with himself - nothing could happen. He felt like he was toeing the line enough even being in the Nolan’s presence, let alone having the audacity to befriend him. _Like hell I could jump in bed with a Brotherhood member, let alone the leader of an entire chapter._

He was startled from his thoughts as one of his younger colleagues jogged up to him, looking a little out of breath and concerned. “Hey, Arcade?”

“Yeah, what’s up?” He could already feel the tension rising in his shoulders. What could it possibly be now?

“Oh, nothing crazy happened. I just wanted to give you a heads up - a couple NCR soldiers have been in the Fort for a week.”

His stomach churned. “And nobody saw fit to tell me until now?”

“I guess nobody thought it mattered? One of ‘em is pretty docile. Says he quit and Freeside’s better off now? Julie didn’t think he was any trouble. The other was comatose until about half an hour ago.” The younger doctor shrugged, slightly uneasy. “The one that just woke up is, uh. He’s a little surlier than the other guy.”

Arcade sighed. “How surly are we talking?”

“Like, said he would cut your courier buddy’s head off and shit in the stump if he ever saw him kind of surly. NCR man through and through; thought you might wanna steer clear? Julie’s dealing with him herself, though; he’ll be here a couple more days. Figured I’d let you know.” He went to turn away, but Arcade reached out and grabbed his arm.

“Are you serious? There’s a macho, blindly loyal NCR soldier in the camp? When we have members of the _Brotherhood_ here?”

“I think he was a ranger, actually-”

“That’s even _worse_!” He rubbed at his temples, the beginnings of a headache already storming the gates. “Julie should have just booted him as soon as he got up.”

“Come on, you know she wouldn’t do that. Besides, he hasn’t done anything to hurt anyone.”

“Well, let’s hope that doesn’t change. I’ll see you later,” he said, more than a little terse as he turned away. He tried to unclench his jaw as he entered the tent he shared with Nolan, but the Elder’s expression immediately changed when he got a good look at the doctor’s face. Great; Arcade really wanted to tell the leader of the Brotherhood that an NCR ranger with a chip on his shoulder was maybe a hundred feet away at best.

“...What’s wrong?” he asked quietly after a moment of awkward silence. “Arcade?”

Rubbing at his eyes, the blond sat next to Nolan’s bed and adjusted his glasses. “It’s nothing too serious, just stressful. Only like a migraine instead of a gushing wound - actually, forget it, that’s a terrible metaphor. I don’t want you to worry about it.”

“I’m afraid I don’t quite understand,” he said, a little tentative. “What happened?”

He sighed. “There’s a wounded NCR ranger staying in the Fort. A very loyal, very angry NCR ranger.” He looked over, and the expression on Nolan’s face made his heart hurt a little. “It’s just one guy, so you don’t really have anything to worry about. I don’t think he even knows the Brotherhood is here. And if he finds out, so what? Your paladins are all in a tent together, they could take him down easy.” Looking into his eyes, he said a little more seriously, “And _you’re_ with _me._ ”

Nolan looked at the sheets, his brow furrowed, but after a moment his face relaxed and he sighed, leaning back. “Very well, Arcade. I trust you.”

The enormity of the statement weighed on his soul just a little. _You probably wouldn’t if you knew me just a little bit better_. Trying to shake the feeling, he reached to a shelf behind him and rummaged through a box. “Here’s a plasma defender, just in case. Easier than trying to wrangle with a bigger gun when you’re bedridden, I imagine.”

“Thank you,” Nolan said quietly. “How long will he be here?”

“Two days, maybe less if I have anything to say about it.” He ran a hand through his hair. “I’m gonna go grab us some dinner, okay? I’ll be back in a few minutes.”

As he left, he looked up at the darkening sky briefly, trying to let go of some of the tension in his shoulders. He remembered the days when the Fort was less boring. It seemed like a completely different life at this point.

* * *

 

He could feel the heavy weight of Nolan’s eyes on the plasma defender strapped comfortably to his waist as they ate in relative quiet, his insides squirming a little at the scrutiny. The Elder put his fork down after a moment, seemingly finished; after a few seconds, he broke the silence.

“Why do you protect me so?”

Arcade kept chewing for a moment, as if to be polite, but really he was scrambling for an answer. _Way to let the guy unbalance you._

“You’re my patient,” he began. “I’m not much of a doctor, but I still take my work seriously. And... you’re a good guy.” He shook his head. Wow, that was cheesy, even for him. “God, that was terrible, I’m sorry. Anyway, you have a lot of people to look after. And Isaac and Veronica seem to like you well enough.”

“A friend of theirs is a friend of mine kind of thing?”

Arcade shrugged. “I guess. But I know you’re a good man. There aren’t too many left in the Mojave, certainly not any that’ve seen as much as you have.” He grinned. “Definitely not as many with so many big guns and crazy armor. Even less when you factor in good looks.”

Nolan smiled that slow, beautiful smile that burned at Arcade’s heart. “Are you flirting with me, Doctor?”

“Is that a bad thing?” he found himself saying.

“Not at all,” the Elder said coyly. He hid the curve of his lips behind a worn out handkerchief, but Arcade could still see the sparkle in his eyes.

His heart clenched, and he wondered, not for the first time, what in the hell was wrong with him. Later that night, he stared at the pitch black of the canvas wall, willing away the fire building within him, wishing he even had the nerves to try relieving himself with the other man just a few feet away.

Little did he know, the Elder entertained thoughts not entirely dissimilar to his own.

* * *

 

It had been a little over two weeks now since Nolan led his squad of paladins to the Fort to heal and recover before braving the hills and storms home to their bunker - and in that time, the Elder found he had a bit more to think about than he’d anticipated.

He’d thought of Arcade once or twice on the way to Freeside, to be sure - it was hard to forget a visitor to the Brotherhood’s bunker, no matter how brief the stay. He only heard bits and pieces then; his status as a Follower, his strange proficiency with energy weaponry - _“He can melt a bandit’s face at a hundred yards as easily as he can jam a stimpak into an open wound”_ , according to Veronica - and a hatred of the Legion that the Courier, Isaac, seemed to have little doubt of. Arcade had been quiet during their brief stay there, but in their short talks, Nolan felt he could safely judge the character of the doctor before him.

After two weeks in the Fort, there was no doubt at all... but maybe something else, as well.

He didn’t think of himself as a flighty man (though perhaps more than a bit foolish, after the business with the lockdown; thank goodness they’d gotten him to change his mind), but Arcade was... well, he couldn’t say _different_ , because _that_ sounded flighty, like something a man a couple decades younger than Nolan would say.

But it had been a long time for him. The disaster at HELIOS One and the fallout thereafter, not to mention his sudden promotion, had afforded him very little room for intimacy. And here was this stranger, suddenly appearing in his life in meaningful ways - not just once, but twice now. A handsome and wonderful stranger...

Yet, Arcade was becoming more familiar and less mysterious every day.

He was charming and clever, a good man quite capable of shedding blood if necessary, if the stories were to be believed - but only if necessary. Admittedly, Nolan was curious to see the doctor in action, though a larger part of him prayed such a situation wouldn’t arise for him to find out firsthand.

The man of the hour himself walked in, hair slightly tousled but looking otherwise fine. He offered Nolan a wave before sitting beside him and reaching, almost instinctively, for the bandages at the other man’s arm. Looking over, he saw the heavy book he’d lent him two weeks back sitting closed on his lap.

“You finished it?”

“Yes. Thank you for letting me read it, it was very enjoyable.” He chuckled for a moment, and added, “You’re a bit like Aragorn, I think.”

“Come on, at least tell me I look like Legolas.” He wiped down Nolan’s arm with a cloth, and continued, “Your arm’s fine now, you’re just gonna have an impressive scar. Your foot should be good to go in a couple days, too.” He moved to stand, but Nolan reached out and grasped at his hands.

“Thank you, Arcade.”

“I’m just doing my job,” he said, a little flustered. Nolan shook his head and smiled.

“You’ve done much more than that. I must admit, though... I’ll miss you when I leave. Is there any way I could perhaps convince you to visit the bunker?”

“I don’t see why not. I could escort you back,” the blond replied far too quickly. “Wait, never mind, that was weird of me-”

“I’d quite enjoy that,” he said as he squeezed the doctor’s hand. Arcade’s heart clenched, his mind reeling - _stop it. That smile is not even fair. Or the eyes. Or basically everything about you-_  “Would you be able to leave, though, with so much here to attend to?”

“They don’t actually need me that much.” There was a shade of harshness in his voice that was hard to miss. “And a lot’s settled down since the fight at the Dam, so they need me even less than usual. I’m feeling a little restless, anyway. Might as well do something more exciting than mashing up agave with various local vegetation and pretending it’ll make something useful.” He ran a hand through his hair, trying to ease the set of his shoulders. “I’ll tell Julie tomorrow.”

“You’re far from worthless, Arcade.” Nolan’s pale eyes gleamed with affection and concern in the dim light, and the doctor wondered not for the first time what in the hell he was actually getting himself into.

* * *

 

_He has to know._

The thought wormed its way incessantly through Arcade’s thoughts throughout the day, hovering over him, bending his shoulders with a weight he hadn’t felt in a very long time. He couldn’t escort them all back and spend time in the bunker and... and who knew what else, with the way Nolan had been touching his hands, with the way he’d been looking at him.

_I have to tell him._

His legs felt like lead weights as he began walking in the direction of his tent. It was the first day Nolan had been on his feet in three weeks, but Arcade couldn’t bring himself to be as happy about it as he should have been.

_I’m so damn tired of living like this._

Escape plans flitted through his mind, half-formed and fleeting. He figured he knew exactly how this conversation was going to go, and it was only going to end badly. Maybe that’s why he’d put it off until now.

_Have to tell him on my own terms before he finds out on his own, somehow. Or before the guilt eats me alive._

He’d been fooling himself these last few weeks, enjoying the first tastes of something he knew he couldn’t have for long-

“Arcade!” Nolan’s smile was bright and enthusiastic as the doctor walked in, and despite himself, he forgot some of his unease - but just for a moment. The Elder’s expression quickly faded at the uncharacteristic nervousness in the other man, and his brow furrowed in concern. “Arcade? What’s the matter?”

“...I have to tell you something,” he near-stammered. “No, it’s not - nothing happened, or anything. Well, I guess something did happen - more like, it’s something wrong with me. Something you should know that I haven’t told you.”

Nolan took two steps forward. “What are you talking about?” he asked quietly. Arcade felt his stomach drop; his blood felt like ice. He came closer, resting a hand on the blond’s arm, his voice nearly a whisper. “Arcade?”

He took a deep breath. It was now or never.

“My father was an Enclave officer.” The words came away breathless and rushed; Nolan’s expression fell, a sudden flicker of storminess in his eyes, his face more unreadable than Arcade had ever seen it. _I’m crazy, this was a crazy idea and I’m going to die, he’s going to kill me--_ was it his own frantic imaginings, or could he see a volatile anger brewing behind that gaze?

Almost sounding desperate, he continued, his words rushed and nervous. “He’s dead now - he died when I was a kid, but some of the other officers he knew tried to help my mother and I escape the NCR. My mother died too, but... _I’m_ not Enclave, I just...” He took a deep, shuddering breath, a bead of sweat threatening to fall down his cheek. Nolan remained unmoving, and the silence was overwhelming. _I wonder if I could have possibly explained that any worse than I actually did_ , the doctor thought bitterly.

“...That’s a dangerous secret.” The Elder’s voice was quiet but razor-sharp, and Arcade felt fifteen and terrified all over again.

But then, Nolan squeezed his arm. _Not even an ‘I’m going to murder you relentlessly’ squeeze - it feels almost... comforting_.

The question came softly and lacked any malice; the Elder’s face relaxed, and he suddenly seemed tired and sad. “Why didn’t you tell me sooner?”

“Well, there’s no really good way of saying ‘oh, by the way, my dad was in the Enclave, now let’s kiss’.” He tried not to fidget, and found it unsurprisingly difficult. “You... don’t seem like you want to run me through with anything sharp, though.”

The Elder leaned closer, his grip on the doctor’s arm tightening, just a little. Arcade wasn’t sure how to interpret his sudden shift in expression - angry? ... _Resentful_?  “How many lives have you saved over the years, Arcade? How many Legionnaires have you taken down?” Nolan’s voice was barely more than a harsh whisper, now; Arcade could feel his breath ghost against his face, could feel the tension rising with each passing second. “How many chances have you had to kill me?”

“I would _never_ -”

“I _know_ you wouldn’t!” He could see the pores of the Elder’s caramel skin, the stubble of his face, the flecks of blue in his eyes. He was so, so close. “I trust you, Arcade, when I have so little to trust these days, when most I know would tell me to kill you without another thought. I know you’re not Enclave. I know you have the Brotherhood’s best interests at heart - would you have spent the time and effort with your courier and Veronica to help us otherwise?” The blond was silent, and the heavy moment hung between the spaces of their breathing.

“You are not your father’s organization. You aren’t any of that. You’re _you_. I _trust_ you, as insane as it sounds. The man I was three months ago may have shot you - honestly, I _definitely_ would have shot you - but I am that man no longer. I’m done living in fear and shadows of enemies that have no hold or bearing on me. And you are certainly not an enemy, regardless of what your father may have done decades past. I trust you, and I want _you_ to trust _me_.”

Arcade let out the breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding in, lightheaded and shot through with the feeling of fading adrenaline. Nolan’s hand still gripped him tightly; the contact felt like fire on his cold skin, keeping Arcade unbalanced. “Well. Okay. That’s good.” _Wow, his lips are really nice._ “On a scale of one to ten, I’m at about a hundred for being glad you don’t want to shoot me in the face.” _Don’t kiss him, it would be stupid._ “It could make things awkward.” _Don’t do it, Arcade._ Nolan’s smile came back, slow and appreciative and way too gorgeous for anyone, let alone a man as haunted as he was. _Seriously. Don’t do it._

Being the sensible, collected man he was, Arcade kissed him.

It only took a fraction of a second to close the distance; Nolan’s lips were a little chapped, but warm, and as the Elder softly returned the gesture, the doctor felt like the world was spinning around him. He felt one of the Elder’s hands come up to rest on his head, threading gently through his hair; his heart was beating so hard it was leaving him near breathless, but he felt a nervous elation he certainly hadn’t expected fifteen minutes ago as Nolan made a small sound in the back of his throat, fingers tracing gently over Arcade’s jaw.

They broke apart after a moment, and in the quiet, Arcade spoke:

“You really _are_ good at everything.”

Nolan’s laugh was infectious; Arcade felt himself smiling, just as McNamara’s arms enveloped him in a firm and sudden embrace. He felt ridiculous, for a moment, caught completely off guard; he stood there with his hands in the air as Nolan’s head rested beside his, but after a moment, he awkwardly returned the hug. Goosebumps rose on his skin as the Elder turned his face a little to whisper into his ear, and he tried not to shiver. “You’re rather charming, Doctor Gannon.”

Arcade’s chuckle was quiet and content. _Says the man who just swept me off my feet._

For once that night, his dreams were not so dark.

* * *

 

“Is everyone prepared?”

“Yes, Elder.” Arcade, Nolan and seven Brotherhood paladins stood just inside the door of the Fort, fully stocked and ready to go. Arcade’s hand rested on his plasma defender out of habit as he nodded his agreement. He had a pack full of medicine and rations and a squadron of fully armored combat veterans surrounding him; it didn’t get much more ready than that.

“Let’s be on our way, then.” The eight members of the order put on their helms in unison, plasma rifles at the ready as they made their way through the gigantic doors into the rest of Freeside. The weather was relatively bright and clear, and the day was just a tad on the side of chilly. Arcade pulled his coat a little more tightly around himself as they walked; it wouldn’t be long before they left Freeside and were on the road.

“Are you all right, Doctor?” One of the paladins was facing him as they walked; frustratingly, it was impossible to read their expression at all, quite literally. They sounded concerned enough, but holding a conversation with someone in a full suit of power armor had always been just a little disconcerting to the Follower.

“Yeah,” he said a little absently, his attention turning elsewhere almost as soon as he said it. Was that... an NCR ranger over by the old food stand? They were in full armor, oddly enough, looking right at McNamara, their arm cocked back to throw something that Arcade couldn’t quite make out -

_Oh, shit!_

He could swear he felt his heart stop for a moment. The world seemed to move in slow motion as the frag grenade sailed through the air - directly towards Nolan’s face. His weapon arm snapped forward, trigger finger moving before he could even think about it; the plasma hit the airborne weapon head on, and it exploded in midair. The force of the explosion knocked the Brotherhood group and the ranger back; shrapnel blasted past all of them as Arcade fired another shot, hitting the ranger in the shoulder and throwing their aim wild as they tried to line up their shotgun; they fired, but the pellets either missed completely or grazed the thick armor of the paladins now surrounding their leader.

It was over in a second; even a veteran ranger didn’t have great odds against nine in a direct fight. One of the paladins kneeled by the body and removed the assailant’s helm - it was the same man that had been treated in the Fort not too long ago.

“Guess he got word about the two of us. Or you, at the very least.” Arcade looked apologetic, waving his hand in front of his face. Burning flesh and cloth was never a pleasant odor. “Sorry. I don’t think most of the NCR left in the area - what little there is, anyway - is going to be as patriotic as our unpleasant friend over there.”

“I’m not overly concerned about it, to be honest.” Nolan’s voice echoed strangely from his helm. “We certainly outnumber any that might feel or act in a similar fashion to the ranger here, though I doubt there are many who would violate our truce.” He paused for a moment, and then added, “And I’m definitely not worried with you at our side. Veronica wasn’t exaggerating about your skill, it seems.” The other paladins nodded their agreement, and Arcade looked uncomfortably bashful for a moment.

“Thanks,” he said, picking a tiny piece of shrapnel from his hand. He could almost feel the fond smile Nolan was undoubtedly aiming at him from behind his protective shell.

“Let’s continue on our way, then.”

* * *

 

“Hopefully we’ll make it to the bunker without further incident.” One of the the Brotherhood paladins had said that the previous morning, not long after leaving Freeside.

As luck would have it, they now had a remnant Legion squad bearing down on them.

Ten road-weary men still proudly bearing Caesar’s flag screamed in vindictive, suicidal defiance as they charged head on for their enemies, chainsaws revving with spears and swords at the ready. They hadn’t caught Nolan’s group completely by surprise, however, which gave the Brotherhood enough time to line up their sights and begin shooting. Two Legionnaires went down, filled with lead and plasma, before they met head-on and the clash truly began.

Arcade blocked a sword with the Ripper he held in one hand before shooting his assailant in the gut with the plasma defender held in the other, his breathing light and quick. His own heartbeat pounded fast and heavy in his ears, dulling the yells and clashing steel surrounding him as he locked eyes with another Legionnaire running straight for him, spear aimed directly for the doctor’s unprotected face. An enemy to his right lunged and knocked him off balance just as he raised his gun, and he looked up to see the man with the spear smile victoriously just as he dove forward-

Right into a very angry Nolan McNamara.

The sound of metal on metal rang out as he blocked the spear with his gauntlet; he took but a fraction of a moment to raise his own weapon to the Legionnaire’s face, spraying his armor and the semi-prone doctor with blood as he pulled the trigger once, twice, three times. Arcade had little time to marvel at the Elder’s callous, thorough methods; he snapped his attention to a battered Legionnaire beyond Nolan, his chainsaw was revving wildly, held at bay only by the gun of Paladin Ramos in front of him. He fired off three shots; the man’s body jerked each time, before Nolan swung his weapon down on the assailant’s head as hard as he could, caving in the side of his skull before he dropped, quite lifeless, to the dirt.

The paladins finished off the last few men they’d been fighting, and regrouped around their Elder and the doctor, who got to his feet and brushed off the front of his coat out of habit. Blood and dust smeared into the fabric, leaving streaks of grime against the white. Arcade made a discontented noise, but then looked up at his... what? Hell if he knew, anymore.

 

 

“This is the part where I not only thank you for keeping me alive, but ask if anyone needs medical attention. And for everyone to forget my graceful display a moment ago.”

“We’re all relatively unharmed, if a bit bruised, though our armor - and Ramos’s gun - could use repairs. We’ll take care of it once we reach the bunker later this evening.”

 _Hopefully we can get there without anymore projectiles coming within an inch of skewering me._ “If we're all in one piece, then, let's be on our way. I don't fancy the idea of hanging around here more than necessary.”

“Yes, it would be quite a shame to run into any more Legionnaires or enemies besides.”

“Enemies? Sorry, I was talking about my face. I look terrible with a tan.”

“A tan? I was beginning to worry the sun is allergic to you, as rarely as you meet it,” Nolan chuckled.

Arcade’s smile took up almost his entire face.

* * *

 

The bunker was a lot brighter than he remembered.

People actually smiled at him, now. A few scribes even waved to him in greeting as they passed by on the way to McNamara’s office, and when he glanced over at the Elder, he looked five years younger than he had a few months before.

“Seems like everyone here is doing a lot better,” the doctor remarked as Nolan began looking through some paperwork at his desk.

“Lifting the lockdown boosted their spirits. Fighting - and winning - at the Dam had even more of an effect.” He paused for a moment, and looked over at the doctor seated beside him. “I owe you, Veronica and Isaac a greater debt than I will ever be able to repay.”

“I think you and I are more than even,” Arcade said quietly. He couldn’t help but smile as Nolan met his eyes.

“Perhaps. I may ask to borrow another of your books, just to be sure.”

“Actually, I brought a few with me. Nothing about pre-War failed socioeconomic policies - please, try not to be too disappointed - but some stuff like what you already read. I even have the prequel to it. Not as heavy on sexy elves; hope you like gruff short people.”

“Well, the dwarves are a hearty people, much like the Brotherhood.”

“Oh my God, are we really having this conversation?” His laugh was genuine and lighthearted as he slipped a book from his pack. “Here. This has maps, too; look...”

And that’s how they found themselves at his desk, leatherbound book open in front of him, with Arcade leaning in from behind. His chest rested easily on Nolan’s back as he draped over his shoulders, pointing to certain things on the map and smiling at the curiosity and wonder on the other man’s face.

A warmth settled comfortably into his heart; a warmth that grew later that night as he found himself back in Nolan’s room, back against the wall as the shorter man leaned in close.

“A little scandalous having an outsider in your room, isn’t it?” the doctor quipped, his lips curving upward. “A Brotherhood soap opera in the making.”

“We haven’t done nearly enough for it to be a scandal yet. Perhaps we should fix that.” Nolan’s smile vanished for a moment, though, replaced by... concern? “Arcade, you must never tell anyone else of your ancestry. Most will not be quite so... open minded.”

“In almost thirty years, you’re only the second person I’ve told. Isaac was the first. Even better, neither one of you put me in the ground for it. I’d rather not test my luck with anyone else, though.” Almost tentatively, he reached out a little, placing his hands on McNamara’s arms. His robes were soft to the touch. “Thanks, I guess. For... well, for not killing me. And for... this. Whatever this is.”

“What do you want it to be?” Nolan asked quietly, leaning closer. Arcade could feel the warmth of his body, now, and his pulse began to quicken.

“If I remember right, I kissed you first, Elder McNamara.”

“And I kissed you back, Doctor Gannon.” One of his hands, warm and smooth, came up to rest on Arcade’s cheek. His expression was serious but affectionate as their lips met once more, brief and tender and soft. “I want you in my life, Arcade. Whatever poetic word you choose for it is fine; lovers, companions, boyfriends-”

“‘Boyfriends’ is pretty poetic, if you’re 17.”

“ _Arcade_.” Nolan couldn’t help but laugh, pushing at him a little. The doctor found his smile contagious. “You are welcome here always.”

“In the bunker, or your room specifically?”

Nolan just smiled that smile of his in response, slow and gorgeous, before he cut off Arcade’s sarcasm with a much deeper and heartfelt kiss.

Arcade knew he was still a haunted man - they both were, and perhaps always would be, especially in his case. But maybe this - here, with Nolan, and with the Mojave finally free - maybe this was the start of finally finding some peace, and a sleep without endless nightmares.

_In somno securitas._

* * *

 

 _finis_ \- **e n d .**


End file.
